Chương 112: Notification: Blood Mage Assassin Edits

The edited version includes some fundamental changes (mostly in book 1). Below I'll try to cover what's not really spoilers followed by big spoilers for those who don't wish to read everything from scratch. Not Spoilers. Jack's PTSD is much more obvious and is given a diagnosis. A PTSD diagnosis in a medieval style fantasy world didn't really fit. I've used Soldier's Heart: this is a reference from the American Civil War. Jack's past life training is better explained.

On Royal Road about a quarter of readers wrongly believed Jack had 10 years of weapons training. Some believe it was 20 years of weapons training, like he'd hid himself in the woods all that time like some zen master training for his revenge! After his families murder, Jack spent 10 years as a drunk barely surviving (no weapons training at all). He decided he would kill Greaves. Jack lived on the outskirts of a small town with access to a forest. He became an outcast (he's badly scarred and emotionally messed up).

This is where he stayed for 10/11 years. Year 1: 10/11 years before the assassination attempt. Still drinking heavily, he trains in various weapons for a year. It's 1 year of failed weapons training: failed due to his burn scars. He's well below average with weapons (he understands the theory from reading books, but lacks experience/training). He spent a few months struggling to learn to use a sword before giving up. Same with a spear and bow. I've added snippets of memories from his training in book 1.

Snippet from the new chapter 1 The Viscount stabbed him again. Jack felt a twinge of pain, the poison protecting him from the worst of it now. His memories jumped to the few months he'd spent trying to learn swordsmanship and archery. He saw himself in the forest, alone—always alone—a cheap bow drawn back as his arms shook from the agonising pain. He tossed the weapon aside in anger and dropped to the forest floor in tears of frustration.

"I-I can't do it," his scarred, broken form muttered through the sobs.

"I can't." It was the day he'd given up on learning to use a sword, spear, or bow. It was after a fruitless year of pain, all for nought. It was the day he'd decided to cut back on ale and save coin to buy an expensive drow blade and poison. Almost ten years spent inscribing spell scrolls just to buy a single drow blade and poison.

"I hate him!" Jack croaked as he remembered the moment Greaves killed his father with a dagger to the heart.

So near the end of a year of failed training he gives up on the idea of mastering a weapon (a sword/spear/bow) and move to a dagger. He pins all his hopes on an expensive drow dagger/poison combo, and the element of surprise. Stab Greaves in the back with a magic poisoned dagger: job done. This was a good plan IF Greaves was a fat, lazy, library administrator. The real threat was the personal guards. Jack cuts back on his alcohol intake: let's call him a functional alcoholic when he was in his early thirties.

He then spent ~10 years crafting spells scrolls 12+ hours a day to buy the drow blade and poison. He didn't train much during those 10 years. All he really needed to know was the sharp end of the poisoned dagger needs to scratch the target. Almost everyone reading this could've physically done what Jack planned with zero training. Now his life was craft spell scrolls during the day. Drink himself to sleep to suppress the nightmares, depression, and guilt.

A few months before the assassination attempt he moves back to Lundun. At a distance, he follows Greaves. I've also made this a lot clearer. Before it could've been read as Jack was some sort of master spy. He followed Greaves at a safe distance, afraid of being spotted, so he never got too close until the night of the failed assassination attempt. This links him to his PTSD being triggered after being tortured to death by Greaves in the future (see "PTSD/Soldier's Heart" below). Major story changes.

Removed the spell scrolls in his back pack at the start. It didn't really add anything and slowed the scene down. The torture/death scene is condensed to a single chapter now. The spider prank has been removed completely; it ends at Jack recalling the spider prank from his first life. He never collects spiders in the forest, so never gets bitten by them etc. This has been replaced by something else. I originally planned to add the change to book 1, but ran out of space (it was already at 200K words).

See spoilers below which includes full chapters. Jack doesn't fully loot the rat-faced rogue's corpse. In the edit he doesn't fully strip the body or take the extra bag. This removes the need to go to the washhouse to have the items cleaned/repaired. He doesn't buy a disguise at the washhouse (no longer visits the place) and uses his sister's costume again instead. The damaged dagger. I've brought forward something about the link between his dagger and its past owner.

I planned to add this in a future book, but now it's in book 1 and speeds his progress. Covered later in spoilers. PTSD/Soldier's Heart. I've made it clearer why Jack is acting irrationally after he resurrects for the first time. There are two reasons for this. The first is he has PTSD and has just been tortured to death by the man who killed his family. His PTSD has been triggered, he has lost years of keeping it under control due to the new trauma.

I've made this clearer by Jack recognising his PTSD (Soldier's Heart) has been triggered, but recognising the problem isn't enough to bring back his full rational control. He got way too close to Greaves when he follows him; he's become reckless after resurrecting. The second part as to why his PTSD was triggered is covered by one of the last lines in book 1's epilogue. The link was always there, but I didn't make it obvious.

Thanatos had Jack chant the following:"Choose inquisitor, kill blood mages, protect Zia, visit Nemesis." In his previous deaths the chant would've been different:"Choose blood mage, kill blood mages, protect the orphan girl." It changed because he unlocked Novice Blood Mage before he died this time and now knows Zia's name, before she was just an orphan girl. From the edited epilogue: Jack nodded, the words echoing in his mind like the toll of a bell at a funeral.

"Visit Nemesis, or she'll kill me! Wonderful." He repeated what he was trying to compel himself to remember again.

"Choose inquisitor, kill blood mages, protect Zia, visit Nemesis." His final thought was a startling realisation.

"Wait! It's your fault I kept getting killed. You told me to kill blood…" Thanatos, the God of Death, looked sheepish and clicked his fingers…

Jack was attempting to compel himself to do those things. I've added more intrusive thoughts to highlight this. The intrusive thoughts in book 1 are due to compelling himself. So when he almost chooses Novice Blood Mage on Choosing day it's the compulsion. When he feels the need to kill all blood mages, it's the compulsion. The same thing with looking after Zia. As you can see above, Jack realised compelling himself to "kill blood mages" made him more prone to go after Greaves.

Sub-consciously he has always suspected Greaves is a blood mage, but the Baron had messed with his and his fathers mind during his first life, so can't access that info. Recall the drow slaver's mind being messed with an how all the vendors give Greaves free food (he's practising his skills; technically that's a spiler). I might've been asking a bit much for readers to see that link. I've made it much more obvious now. To the big spoilers… Don't read this if you plan to read the edited version.

When Jack uses his dagger he sees memory flashbacks from the dagger's previous owner. That's the Master Assassin the weapons merchant (Nemesis) tried to tell Jack about, but Jack wasn't listening. When Jack uses the dagger to attack/kill he either receives an assassin memory and the instinctual skill knowledge is stored in his mind. He has no recollection of the memory or access to the skill. When Jack coincidentally uses an action which matches a stored assassin skill, that skill is unlocked.

So, if he gets the memory of the assassin using [Pierce Brain] and later pierces an enemy though the brain, he unlocks the [Pierce Brain] skill saving months of training. The above was introduced over multiple kills. Snippets from various chapters. This covers all of Jack's kills. I use this to keep track of memories and skills unlocked. Key: ——Pseudo Class: Skill Name (0): This is related to which pseudo skill was unlocked from the kill.

Demo of [Assassin Skill]: This indicates the assassin skill demonstrated by the memory. **: Indicates this skill has now been unlocked during a future kill. Unlocked [Assassin Skill]: This indicates the assassin skill was unlocked. Reading a few of these should give you a taste of what's happening without having to read it all. ——Pseudo Warrior: First Strike (0) No demo no dagger Undead orcneas sacrifice in the barn. No assassin memory.

——Pseudo Goblin: Enrage (0) Demo of [Throat Slice]** First goblin kill For a brief moment, he saw himself slice the throat of another goblin, the correct assassin's technique—born from countless hours of practice—etching itself into his mind. Then it was gone like late morning fog on a breeze. ——Pseudo Rogue: Detect Trap (0) Demo of [Precise Strike] Rat-faced rogue kill As life left the thin rogue, Jack felt a wave of power pass through him.

For a moment, he saw himself grabbing a similarly dressed rogue from behind; his scarred left hand prevented his victim from screaming while the right hand slid the dagger underneath the rogue's ribs. Then the memory was gone, but the technique buried itself deep within his mind. ——Pseudo Warrior: Greatsword Slice (0) Demo of [Sever Tendons] Swordsman A scarred woman's hand. A dagger moving so quickly it became a silver blur.

The blade slashed across an orcneas' wrist, severing tendons before the creature even realised it had been struck. Its sword slipped from its fingers and clattered onto the stone. Then the vision was gone, but the assassin's technique remained, etched into Jack's memory as though he had practised it for years. ——Pseudo Goblin: Blood Regeneration (0) Demo of [Pierce Heart]** Dungeon goblin And then a vision came, unbidden and sharp as a razor's edge.

The scarred woman's hand moved with liquid grace, her dagger flickering through the air like a silver serpent. A goblin lunged at her, its rusty sword raised high. She stepped inside its guard, her blade sliding beneath its ribs and into its heart. The creature collapsed without a sound. The vision faded, leaving Jack gasping. What… what was that? Then the memory was gone, but the assassin's technique remained.

——Pseudo Librarian: Cross-Reference (0) Demo of [Backstab] Base skill Young blood mage kill A flash of memory from the female assassin stabbing a noble in the back and through a kidney. The blade felt part of him. What was that? The memory was gone, but the technique remained. ——Pseudo Administrator: Multitasking (0) Demo of [Temple Strike] Young blood mage kill Another flash of memory. The female assassin plunging Jack's dagger through the temple of an old grinning man.

Again, his palm burned, and he felt like he could run a marathon as the memory slipped away, but the technique remained. ——Pseudo Mage: Fireball (0) No demo no dagger Young blood mage kill Killed with a sword, no assassin memory. ——Pseudo Healer: Heal (0) Demo of [Pierce Armpit]** Young blood mage kill A flash of memory, his dagger being slid under the armpit of a knight dressed in plate armour as he raised a sword. The memory faded like a dream, but the technique buried itself deep in his mind.

——Pseudo Politician: Convince (0) Demo of [Pierce Skull] Young blood mage kill Another memory flash; his dagger plunging deep into the back of a man's skull. More power, more burning of his palm, and another pseudo skill. ——Pseudo Inquisitor: Detect Class (0) Demo of [Shadow Meld] Young blood mage kill Jack felt his palm burn and the power surge as he finished off a noble with blonde hair by slitting their throat from behind, with the assistance of [Assassinate].

Another flash of memory; the female assassin instantly vanishing within a deep shadow. Another kill and a pseudo skill formed. ——Pseudo Sky-Knight: Skyward Charge (0) Demo of [Sever Tendons] Young blood mage kill His right palm flared, the heat burned, but it didn't make him stop as another memory surfaced of the female assassin slicing a dagger wielding assassin's wrists to disarm them. ——Pseudo Mage: Shield (0) Demo of [Pierce Jaw]** Young blood mage kill More power…

another skill and a flash of the female assassin's memories of plunging a dagger up through the jaw of a young woman. He had no room for remorse; he felt intoxicated with power. All dead. ——Pseudo Goblin: Night Vision (0) Demo of [Dagger Toss] Goblin kill Jack exhaled hard, his palm still itching as the rush of power hit and the fleeting memory of the female assassin tossing the dagger into the heart of an elven archer.

A new pseudo skill slid into place, along with the dagger-throwing technique as the memory drifted away. ——Pseudo Goblin: Feign Death (0) Demo of [Smooth Draw]** Goblin kill His hand shook as he pulled the blade free, to the memory of a woman's scarred hand quickly drawing the dagger from its sheath before slicing a drow assassin's throat.

——Pseudo Goblin: Iron Gut (0) Demo of [Disembowel] Goblin kill The rush of power hit, and more of his exhaustion faded away as another one of the female assassin's memories flashed through his mind, showing her disembowelling a boarkin. The memory faded away, but the knowledge remained. ——Pseudo Goblin: Scramble Reflex (0) No demo. Unlocked [Pierce Armpit] Goblin kill No memory.

——Pseudo Goblin: Haemorrhage (0) Demo of [Sever Hamstrings] Goblin kill More power, a pseudo skill, and another memory of the female assassin slicing the hamstrings of an orcneas. ——Pseudo Goblin: Quick Stab (0) No Demo Unlocked [Pierce Jaw] Goblin kill No memory. ——Pseudo Warrior: Brutal Blow (0) No Demo Unlocked [Disembowel] Warrior kill No memory. ——Pseudo Warrior: Endure Pain (0) Demo of [Femoral Slash] Warrior kill Another memory flashed through his mind.

The tainted blade slit a man's femoral artery causing him to bleed out as the female assassin watched. The memory faded as his palm itched, and he felt the powerful rush of another pseudo skill form. ——Pseudo Warrior: Enhanced Strength (0) Demo of [Precise Torture] Warrior kill A flash of memory of the female assassin torturing a middle-aged noble. She slid the dagger blade into the noble's abdomen. Time returned to normal as the assassin skill wormed its way into has mind.

——Pseudo Guard: Tireless March (0) Demo of [Double Feint] Guard kill The beastkin twitched, then collapsed in a heap of blood and frost as a new memory of the female assassin flashed through Jack's mind. She made a series of three dagger strikes against a heavily armoured warrior. The first two were feints, the third punched through the man's armour.

——Pseudo Rogue: Rogue's Tongue (1) Demo of [Pierce Joint] Rogue kill The beastkin hissed in pain and died as a flash of memory of the female assassin sliding the dagger into the elbow joints of an armoured guard. ——Pseudo Blood Mage: Sanguine Pact (0) Demo of [Pierce Brain] Argil Jack stabbed his [Assassinate] empowered dagger in Argil's neck. Another flash of memory of the female assassin stabbing a laughing noble through the roof of his open mouth and up into his brain.

——Pseudo Knight: Lance Charge (0) No demo no dagger. Fenton Sword kill no memory ——Pseudo Blood Mage: Blood Omen (0) No demo no dagger. Greaves no memory End of book 1… ——Pseudo Warrior: Axe Cleave (0) Demo of [Pierce Brain Stem] Inquisitor guard A memory of the female assassin flashed through his mind. She silently dropped from a tree before driving the blade into the base of a top hat wearing nobleman. In an instant the memory faded to mist, but an imprint of the skill remained.

——Pseudo Warrior: Pierce Armour (0) Demo of [Nerve Strike] Inquisitor guard Another memory, the dagger being stabbed into a man's shoulder, causing agonising pain, but little damage. Below is a list of all unlocked skills added so far. Assassin Novice Secondary Skills Gained —Disembowel (0) —Pierce Armpit (0) —Pierce Jaw (0) More will unlock, but he has to 'see' the demo in his mind and then coincidentally perform the skill to unlock it. If he never tries to sever tendons, he'll never unlock the skill.

New chapters. After deleting the spider prank and washhouse chapters, I added new content. Pasted below: The first half of the first chapter isn't new. It's all new after: Jack had been aimlessly wandering around Lundun for almost an hour. Blood Mage Assassin: Chapter 044 The Severed Head Said Run The swordsman with the large blade strode towards Jack's mother, who was hiding amongst the twisted roots of a fallen tree while shielding Zia with her arms.

Her eyes, wide with terror, shifted between the brute and her son. The man's seven-foot, rust-encrusted sword was being dragged through the soil with a sound like bone grating on stone. His gaze was fixed on Jack's mom.

"Hand over the ear, and I'll let the girl live." His voice was low and guttural, like rocks grinding in his throat. Jack opened his mouth to scream for his mother to run, but no sound escaped his lips. His lungs were filled with stone. He tried to reach for his bow, but his limbs refused to move. Paralysed, he watched on in helpless terror, trapped in a body that would not obey, while the cruel nightmare unfolded like a cursed play. The swordsman was in no rush.

He hacked through the tree roots, each strike of the rusty blade sending splinters and blood-red sap flying. The roots writhed like snakes, bleeding ink, whispering nonsense in Jack's ears, words in ancient Elven he couldn't comprehend but still understood. Failure… Liar… Murderer… Useless… Behind him, Polly's voice rang out from somewhere unseen.

"Don't worry, Mom. Big, brave Jack the goblin slayer will save you. Yes. Won't you, Jack? No?" Her voice was sing-song, lilting with mockery, but it was distorted, as if she were speaking underwater or through cracked glass. Jack tried to turn towards his sister, but couldn't move. He could feel her presence looming over him, yet her body cast no shadow.

"I want her cast-iron skillet… the good one," said Kyle, the rat-faced rogue, who crouched by the fallen tree. He wore a valet uniform several sizes too small, the ridiculous hat drooping over one bloodshot eye. His throat was slashed wide open, yet he was very much alive, grinning as blood gushed out in a fountain that sprayed the wildflowers in brilliant, impossible colours… vivid blue, searing orange, a shade of red that seemed to grin.

Giant bees collected the blood like nectar, all the while humming a discordant tune. The rat-faced rogue drew Jack's own white oak bow and nocked an arrow that resembled a sharpened quill before aiming at his mother. A large mechanical dragonfly landed on the tip of the rogue's drawn bow. Its wings vibrated in sync with the rogue's count.

"One… Two… Three…" he chanted in a childlike voice. No! Jack screamed inside his head. It's me you want! Me! Please! Kyle turned, grinning wider than any man's face should allow.

"Four… Five… Six." He laughed and released the arrow. The arrow sang through the air like a harmonious choir while morphing into a flaming snake. The arrow struck Jack's mother in the gut with a sickening thud and a burst of blue flames. She crumpled to her knees, gasping, her fingers splayed against the bloody, pulsing wound. Her eyes found Jack's and pleaded for help. But Jack remained paralysed. I have to save her. I have to.

He tried to run to her, but his feet had melted into the ground like a candle on a hot stove. I have to save her. I… He looked down and found his legs were roots, twisted and buried, blood-red sap oozing from scarred bark that used to be skin. Little Zia had vanished, erased like a chalk drawing wiped clean as if she had never existed at all, as if she had never been part of the family. The swordsman stepped closer and raised his flaming sword high.

"Was it Viscount Daelrath who sent you?" he rumbled, lowering his face to Jack's mother. His breath turned the air black.

"Speak while you still can!" he demanded. Then, with a swing almost too fast to follow, he brought the burning blade down. The sword whistled, then bit. Jack's mother's head fell to the earth with a soft thud and rolled to his feet. Her eyes blinked three times. The large swordsman laughed so loud the floor vibrated.

"You'll be fine. Most of the pain is in your head."

"Run, Jack," his mom's severed head screamed as thousands of spiders crawled from her mouth.

"Run!" The spiders merged into two humanoid forms that disappeared behind him in jerky movements. Something grabbed his arms and lifted him into the air. Jack still couldn't move or scream, and even his mind refused to form full thoughts. Mo… Wha… Ple… Mo… Two copies of the male inquisitor were holding him aloft.

"Confess your sins before the Gods, boy." The two male inquisitors said in perfect synchrony.

"Hmm… multiple classes. Town Fool and Blood Mage." Another identical male inquisitor stepped in front of Jack; his eyes glowed a golden hue.

"Guilty!" The inquisitor's skin glowed with golden runes. The other inquisitors echoed the judgement.

"Guilty." A thousand identical voices echoed in his mind.

"Guilty!" The words turned into runes that morphed into burning fire that coated every inch of his body. Jack still couldn't form coherent thoughts. In an instant, every nerve screamed in agony as he felt his body turn to ash and flake apart before being blown into the void of nothingness. The last thing to remain were his eyes, which rolled on the floor before an inquisitor stepped on them! Jack woke with a violent jolt, drenched in sweat and clutching his bedding as though the world would end if he let go.

"Not again," he breathed, his voice cracking as he checked he had a face with his hands.

"Not again." His chest heaved as he buried his face in the bedding, stifling the sobs so he wouldn't wake his family.

"It's not real… just a dream. Everyone's safe," he muttered, though the images still burned behind his eyes. After a few minutes, he dragged himself to the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face, and washed the sweat from his body. He stared at his exhausted reflection in the mirror.

"Will I ever get over my soldier's heart?" Hermes' smirking face glinted in the light. Jack groaned as he crawled back into bed, hoping for a few hours of peace before morning. A few hours later, Jack woke at six again. He yawned and stretched as he thought back to the nightmare and hectic week he'd had.

"I'm taking the day off. I really need a rest." He smiled at the thought of spending the day with his mom. Less than an hour later, he was in the kitchen with his mom and dad eating breakfast.

"…taking it easy for the day," Jack said as he finished his breakfast.

"Thought I'd rest for a couple of days, so I'm fresh for the weekend." His dad nodded as he prepared to leave for work. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

"You do look tired, Jack," his mom said.

"A day or two's rest will do you good." A couple of hours passed as Jack relaxed in the kitchen while reading a book on time magic. His mom was preparing food for a local restaurant with Zia's assistance. Polly had already left to meet up with friends. Jack looked at the time. Almost nine. He scratched the back of his neck in thought.

"I'm heading out for a walk, Mom." Anna frowned.

"Don't overdo it. You said you were going to rest."

"It's just a walk." He chuckled.

"Thought I'd spend a few hours wandering the city. It's been ages since I just walked for no reason." She nodded.

"That's true. You aren't much of a walker." Jack considered retorting, but sighed as he took his book back to his room.

Jack had been aimlessly wandering around Lundun for almost an hour. He was dressed in his hooded cloak, mask, and, of course, carried his bow and dagger. He found himself near one of the smaller dungeons where new adventurers would train their skills killing relatively weak monsters. The dungeon entrance was no longer the grassy hillock on the city's outskirts it once was centuries earlier; Lundun's relentless expansion had long since swallowed it.

Now it sat at the heart of a cramped, cobbled square, its ancient stone archway wedged between a towering tenement and a sprawling aether-pumped foundry. The arch itself was a relic of a forgotten age, its lintel carved with worn runes that the city's best scholars had deciphered to read: Blood for Blood. Iron grilles had been set into the sides of the entrance, their bars worn smooth by decades of adventurers using them as handholds.

Above the arch, a wooden sign proclaimed: Dungeon Threat Level 1 - Suitable for Novices. Around the entrance, a small, chaotic market had sprung up, as inevitable as moss on a damp stone. Canvas-and-brass stalls hawked everything a budding adventurer could need: cheap leather armour, mismatched boots, dented helms, and racks of half-rusted shortswords.

A gnome with a mechanical monocle was selling 'guaranteed' healing potions from a bubbling cauldron, while a burly dwarf haggled loudly over the price of a dented shield. The air was thick with the mingled scents of fried street food, oiled metal, spent aether-steam, and—faint but unmistakable—the copper-tang of old blood wafting up from the dungeon's depths.

A small crowd of would-be adventurers milled about the entrance, some checking their gear, others nervously eyeing the darkness within, while a pair of Guild clerks sat at a folding table, collecting entry fees. Jack paused, letting the familiar chaos wash over him. He'd passed this place many times in his past life, but he'd never had a reason to venture inside. Now, with his bow on his back and a few days of training under his belt, the option felt tempting.

He was about to turn and continue his walk when a familiar voice cut through the chatter.

"… and I'm telling you, we don't need anyone else! We're strong enough on our own!" Ben's voice carried that particular note of arrogant confidence that made Jack's eye twitch. Jack slowed his pace, curiosity getting the better of him. Through the gaps in the crowd, he spotted the four young adventurers he'd met in the forest, Mary, Ben, Carol, and Arthur. They were with a fifth figure he recognised from the Guild a few days earlier.

He was a large warrior with a shield who he'd seen speaking with Mary and the others. The group of young adventurers were standing in a loose circle near the dungeon entrance, deep in discussion.

"We need a ranged specialist," Mary was saying, her voice patient but firm.

"The blood spiders can leap, and we don't have anyone who can pick them off before they get close."

"We've got me." Ben gestured with his chipped sword.

"I'll cut 'em down. No problem."

"You got bitten three times by a rabbit last week," Arthur said. The spearman's tone was calm, but the words landed like a slap.

"And that rabbit was already in a snare." Ben's face reddened.

"That was different. It got me by surprise; I wasn't ready." Carol, the healer, shook her head.

"It really wasn't."

"I still say we need an archer," Mary insisted.

"Or at least someone who can throw a damn knife with some accuracy. This is our first dungeon run. I don't want to end up carried out on a stretcher because we got overconfident." She glanced at Ben. The large warrior with the shield rubbed his chin.

"Mary's right. You've been trying to find a ranged fighter for weeks. No one's interested in joining a party with a Novice Mage who can barely cast [Ember Flicker] without burning herself." Mary's cheeks flushed.

"Barney! I'm getting better."

"You singed your eyebrows last week," Carol pointed out.

"One time." She sighed. Jack stood at the edge of the crowd, listening to the bickering with a growing smile beneath his mask. They haven't changed a bit. He remembered the goblin hunt he'd been invited to, but instead practised alone in the forest, only to be attacked by a goblin. The irony was almost too perfect. He started to walk away, not wanting to get involved. He had enough problems without adding a dungeon run with a reckless swordsman to the list. Then Ben spotted him.

"Hey! You there! The one with the bow!" Jack froze mid-step. Oh, for the love of… Not again. Ben was already striding towards him, the others trailing behind with expressions ranging from hopeful to mortified.

"You're an archer, right? A good one? You've got that look about you… The look of a man who knows his way around a bow." Jack turned, keeping his hood low and his mask firmly in place.

"I… erm…"

"See? I knew it." Ben clapped him on the shoulder with a force that nearly knocked him off balance.

"We're heading into the dungeon. First run. We need an archer. You're perfect." Jack laughed; he couldn't help it. This is exactly what happened in the forest.

"You do realise you know nothing about me? I could be a terrible archer. I could be a wanted criminal. I could be…"

"Don't care." Ben waved his hand dismissively.

"You've got a bow, you can shoot stuff, you're coming with us." Mary finally caught up and grabbed Ben by the arm.

"Ben, for the love of all the Gods, stop accosting random strangers." She turned to Jack, her face flushed with embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry. He's… he means well. He's just a complete moron." Jack chuckled again.

"Yeah, I know." Mary blinked.

"Wait. How do you…" Jack reached up and pulled his mask down, revealing his face.

"Hey, Mary." She stared at him for a moment, then her eyes widened with recognition.

"Jack! The… the archer from the forest." A grin spread across her face. Ben looked between them, confused.

"Wait, you know each other?"

"We met a few days ago. You were there, you idiot." Mary sighed.

"Don't you remember? He was just starting archery training. We gave him directions to the practice clearing." She turned back to Jack as Ben shrugged.

"How's the training going?"

"Not too bad," Jack admitted. He glanced around to make sure Sam and Linda weren't nearby.

"Actually, I've been using the Guild's training rooms. They're a lot safer than the forest." He paused.

"Speaking of which… you lot been back there?" Ben groaned.

"We spent three hours hiking through the forest and didn't see a single goblin. Not one. It was a complete waste of a day." Mary sighed.

"The forest has been hunted clean. That's why we're here now." She gestured at the dungeon entrance.

"The Guild confirmed this dungeon is safe for Novices. Mostly blood rats, blood spiders, and the occasional goblin. We're just… nervous about going in without ranged support." Jack looked at the group. Mary's hopeful expression. Carol's nervous smile. Arthur's quiet, appraising gaze. Barney's patient waiting. And Ben. Ben was practically vibrating with excitement like an overeager puppy about to chase a stick. This is a terrible idea, Jack thought. I should say no. I should walk away.

I've got enough problems without…

"We could really use your help," Mary said.

"Please. We've thoroughly researched the dungeon, and it's as safe as a dungeon gets." Jack felt his resolve crumbling.

"I've only been training for a few days, you know. I'm hardly an expert."

"Better than nothing," Ben declared.

"Don't worry, I'll protect us all. It'll be an easy run. I promise." Jack ignored him and accessed his [Perfect Recall] skill, pulling up everything he'd read about the dungeon. His mental file was thin, having little interest in dungeons in his past life. Most of the information came from a brief entry in one of the Guild's reference books. The dungeon was old, a dilapidated castle of some kind, built in a style that predated the Kingdom of Mercia's founding.

It had been overrun decades ago by fast-spawning nests of blood rats and blood spiders that had multiplied unchecked until the Guild started sending adventurers in to cull them. Blood rats and blood spiders, Jack thought. D og-sized rats and spiders the size of rabbits. They b ite for blood. The s piders have a weak paralytic venom. Would take a dozen bites to incapacitate a grown man. Goblins spawn occasionally, but the other monsters usually kill them first because they're territorial.

It was, by dungeon standards, remarkably safe. The real challenge wasn't the monsters; it was navigating the crumbling castle without falling through a rotten floorboard.

"I know a bit about this dungeon. It's tempting… It would help me level faster," Jack said.

"It's old. Predates the Kingdom. The architecture is supposed to be a bit dicey in places… you'll want to watch where you step. Most of the monsters are weak enough that a coordinated party should handle them without much trouble."

"You're in, John." Ben slapped his back again.

"Perfect. We leave in ten minutes."

"Ben! His name's Jack. Try to keep up." Mary gave Jack a grateful smile.

"Thank you, Jack. We really appreciate this." Jack sighed, but a small smile tugged at his lips despite himself.

"Just don't blame me if I end up shooting Ben in the backside by accident." His smile turned into a grin. Or deliberately. The others laughed; even Ben chuckled. Blood Mage Assassin: Chapter 045 My First Starter Dungeon Ten minutes later, Jack was standing in the dungeon entrance with his bow at the ready and a full quiver of arrows on his back. A combination of the basic ones he'd bought for practice and the serrated-tipped ones he'd looted from the rogue.

The interior of the dungeon was dark, lit only by the flickering glow of a few aether-lanterns mounted on the walls and the dim light from the entrance.

"Alright," Mary said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Standard formation. Barney, you're on point with the shield. Ben, you're right behind him. Arthur, you're left flank rear. Jack, you're at the right flank; keep an eye out for anything that tries to flank us. Carol, stay in the middle where you can reach everyone. I'll be just behind Barney." Jack nodded. That's a good setup. Their healer, Carol, would be safest, while Arthur could support their archer if he got into trouble.

The group moved forward in a loose formation, their footsteps echoing in the narrow stone corridor. The air was cool and damp, carrying the faint, iron-sweet scent of old blood and the musty smell of ancient stone.

"Is it always this creepy?" Ben whispered.

"How would we know? It's our first time." Barney chuckled. Ben shrugged. They emerged from the corridor into a large hall, its ceiling lost in shadow. The remains of tapestries hung in tatters on the walls, their colours long since faded to grey. The stone floor was cracked and uneven, with patches of dark, moss-like growth spreading across the flagstones. And in the corners of the room, dark shapes stirred.

"Blood rats," Arthur whispered.

"At least a dozen." Jack raised his bow, nocking an arrow. The rats were about the size of small dogs, their fur matted and dark, their eyes gleaming with a hungry red light. They were focused on the group, their noses twitching as they sensed the intruders.

"Steady," Mary said, her voice tight.

"Let them come to us. It's easier to pick them off when they're…" The rats charged.

"Bloody hell!" Ben shouted, raising his sword as the first wave of furry bodies surged towards them. Try to use all my skills. I have to practi s e them. Jack cast [Assassin's Mark] on one of the blood rats and gained little insight. Healthy Blood Rat, hungry. He frowned. That's not much use. His limited training and class knowledge kicked in. He drew and aimed at the lead rat while counting to three in his head before release.

The arrow struck it in the chest, and it tumbled to the ground with a squeak, its momentum carrying it a few feet before it lay still.

"Nice shot," Carol called. Jack didn't respond, already nocking another arrow. Barney swung his shield, smashing a rat out of the air. Arthur's spear darted forward, skewering a rat that had tried to flank them. Ben was at the front, his sword swinging wildly, but he was fast, and the rats were having trouble getting past his blade. Mary raised her hands, her face pinched with concentration.

"[Ember Flicker]." A small flame flickered to life on her palm as she pressed it against a rat that had been injured badly by Ben. The creature squealed, its fur catching fire as it tried to flee. Jack shuddered at the smouldering rat corpse. Keep calm. You're in no real danger.

"That's three for me!" Ben shouted, his voice filled with excitement.

"Come on. Keep them coming." Over the next few minutes, the team worked together with surprising efficiency. Jack loosed arrow after arrow from the rear, picking off rats that tried to flank them. Barney's shield was a wall of protection, deflecting the creatures that got too close. Arthur's spear was a constant, deadly presence, his strikes precise and efficient. Ben was chaotic but effective, his sword carving a path through the rat swarm. And Mary was learning.

With each kill she secured, her confidence grew as she finished off injured rats. Finally, the last rat fell. Ben's sword cleaving it in two with a triumphant shout.

"That's right! That's what you get!"

"Stop shouting," Arthur said, his voice mild.

"You'll attract more."

"Let them come!" Ben declared, striking a heroic pose.

"I'll take them all!"

"In your condition?" Carol raised an eyebrow.

"You've been bitten." Ben looked down at his arm, where a small wound was bleeding.

"It's just a scratch!"

"You've got blood on your trousers," Jack observed.

"Also your back." Ben twisted to look, his bravado evaporating.

"Alright, maybe a few of them got through." He winced.

"Ow. That one actually stings a bit." Carol pushed through the group, her hands already glowing with healing magic.

"Let me see." They waited while Carol tended to Ben's wounds, and Jack took the opportunity to retrieve his arrows from the corpses. He counted the bodies; fourteen rats. Their corpses could be sold to the Guild for 5 coppers each; alchemists used their blood in several common potions. 5 coppers wasn't a fortune, but enough to make the trip worthwhile.

"Alright," Mary said when Carol had finished.

"That went better than I expected. Jack, you did great. You hit almost every shot."

"Not every," Jack admitted.

"But enough."

"More than enough." Ben clapped him on the shoulder.

"See? I told you he was the right choice." Mary ignored him and looked around the hall.

"There's a passage on the far side. We need to go through there to reach the next level. According to the maps, there's a safe area past the kitchens." They moved through the castle, fighting their way through room after room. The blood rats were everywhere, breeding fast in the damp, dark corridors. But they were predictable, and the team was learning. Mary was improving fastest. With each fight, she grew more confident with her spells, learning when to use [Ember Flicker] and when to use [Frost Touch].

Jack found himself feeding her kills, weakening rats with his arrows so she could finish them off with her magic. It was risky. Mary had to get close to use her spells, but with Barney's shield covering her and Jack's arrows keeping the rats off balance, it worked.

"You're getting better," Jack told her after a particularly smooth exchange where she'd taken down three rats in quick succession. Mary flushed with pride.

"Thanks. I've been practising at home on logs. My dad got me a secondhand book on mage spells so I can study and train." Jack nodded.

"That's smart. The more you understand the theory, the easier the casting becomes."

"It's just… there's so much to learn," Mary said.

"Magecraft is like a whole different language. I mean, it basically is a different language. Ancient Elvish, mostly, but with a lot of weird technical terms that don't translate well."

"Keep at it," Jack said.

"You'll get there." In his past life he'd read multiple books on magic theory, and knew that to become a powerful mage required a lifetime of dedicated study and practical application. Although plenty of humans chose mage as their chosen class, the slow levelling speed meant very few reached the Master Mage level. The average human Master Mage was over one hundred years old. It was the longer-lived races, like elves, who filled the ranks of Master Mages.

With lifespans in the thousands of years, many went way beyond the level 100 threshold. The next room was a kitchen, its stone floor slick with moisture and old grease. The air was thick with the cloying smell of decay from the remains of ancient meals, long since rotted away. And in the centre of the room, surrounded by a half-dozen blood spiders, was a goblin. The creature was backed into a corner, its rusted shortsword raised in a defensive pose.

The blood spiders were advancing slowly, their legs clicking against the flagstones, their venomous fangs dripping with anticipation. The goblin's eyes were wide with panic, and it was making a high-pitched keening noise that Jack suspected was supposed to be a war cry but sounded more like a terrified scream.

"Oh, that's different," Arthur observed.

"It's terrified," Carol said, her voice a mix of pity and revulsion.

"Those spiders are going to eat it."

"Great," Ben said, raising his sword.

"We'll save it and then kill it. Best of both worlds!"

"Ben, wait…" Mary started, but it was too late. Ben charged into the room, sword raised high.

"Come on, you bastards! Pick on someone your own size!" The goblin, seeing a potential distraction, made a break for it. It sprinted straight towards the group, its eyes wild with fear, its sword still clutched in its trembling hands.

"Look out!" Jack shouted, but it was too late. The goblin ran right into the middle of the group. Ben stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet. The goblin collided with Arthur, who grunted in surprise and tried to spear it. The creature ducked under the spear, its movements erratic and desperate, and kept running. In the chaos, the blood spiders attacked. Three of them leapt at Ben, their legs splayed wide, their fangs aimed at his flesh.

Ben swung his sword wildly, hitting one of them, but the other two latched onto his arm and back.

"Get them off! Get them off!" Ben was screaming, his voice high and panicked. Jack drew his bow, but he couldn't get a clear shot; Ben was in the middle of the group, and the spiders were too close.

"They're biting him!" Carol shouted, trying to reach Ben.

"Mary. Now!" Arthur yelled, his spear already pinning the goblin to the stone floor. The creature squirmed and shrieked, its arms flailing. Jack saw his chance. He lowered his bow, drew his dagger and rushed forward. The goblin's right arm was thrashing wildly, almost hitting Mary as she tried to get close enough to use one of her skills. Jack grabbed the creature's arm and slammed it against the floor, his dagger pinning its wrist to the stone. The goblin squealed in pain and rage, but it was trapped.

"Now!" Jack shouted at Mary.

"Do it now!" Mary stepped forward, her hand glowing with pale blue energy.

"[Frost Touch]." She pressed her palm against the goblin's neck, and the creature convulsed, its flesh turning white as the cold seeped into its body. A moment later, it went still. The surge of power hit Jack like a wave; hot, energising, almost electric. His fatigue faded, and for a brief moment, he felt stronger than he had all day. And then a vision came, unbidden and sharp as a razor's edge. The scarred woman's hand moved with liquid grace, her dagger flickering through the air like a silver serpent.

A goblin lunged at her, its rusty sword raised high. She stepped inside its guard, her blade sliding beneath its ribs and into its heart. The creature collapsed without a sound. The vision faded, leaving Jack gasping. What… what was that? Then the memory was gone, but the assassin's technique remained.

"Jack? Jack, are you alright?" Mary's voice pulled him back to the present. She was looking at him with concern, her hand still glowing with residual cold.

"I-I'm fine," Jack managed.

"Just… adrenaline." He looked down at the goblin's body. That surge of power. I felt it. The same as in the forest. What's happening to me?

"I think I'm going to be sick," Ben said from somewhere behind him. Jack turned to find the young swordsman slumped against a broken table, his face pale and sweating. Two of the blood spiders were dead at his feet, and Carol was already working on his wounds, but there was a worrying tremor in Ben's hands.

"He got bitten," Carol said, her voice tight.

"Three times. The venom's already taking effect."

"What does that mean?" Barney asked, his voice filled with concern.

"The venom's a paralytic," Jack said, forcing himself to focus.

"Weak, mostly. You need a dozen bites to incapacitate an average person. But with three bites…" He looked at Ben, who was starting to drool slightly.

"He's going to be partially paralysed for about an hour."

"Phartial?" Ben's voice was slurred, his words coming out thick and imprecise.

"I canth feel my armth. Or my legth."

"Gggrrmmfflth," he added, which Jack assumed meant something rude. Carol finished healing the bite wounds as best she could.

"I've healed the puncture wounds, but the paralysis needs to run its course. I don't have an antivenom skill. He won't be able to fight properly for an hour or so."

"Great," Barney sighed.

"So we have to carry him out?"

"Looks that way," Arthur said.

"We can't leave him here."

"Canth we just thake a breakth?" Ben asked, his words still slurred.

"Thleep it off?"

"An hour in a dungeon isn't safe," Mary said.

"We've got enough rat and spider corpses to make a profit. We should go."

"Wait," Jack said.

"We should at least see what's in the next room. There might be something valuable." He was comparing where they were to the small amount of information he had on the dungeon. There was a small chance of a treasure chest in the next room. Mary shook her head.

"Jack, I appreciate the help, but Ben's a liability right now. We need to get him out of here."

"Then we'll check the last room and leave," Jack suggested.

"If it's a dead end, we turn back. But we've come this far… might as well see it through." The group considered this. Ben was slumped against the table, drooling slightly and muttering what might have been obscenities under his breath.

"Fine," Mary said.

"One room. Then we leave." They found an empty goblin's lair in a small chamber off the kitchen. It was a dead end, as Jack had suspected. The creature had been hoarding junk: a few old coins, a couple of broken weapons, and a collection of mismatched boots that made no sense.

"Gods, what was it planning to do with these?" Carol asked, holding up a boot that was four sizes too big for any goblin.

"No idea," Jack said.

"But we should probably leave them. They're not worth anything." The goblin ear and the corpses are the real profit here. They gathered the corpses—fourteen blood rats and nine blood spiders—and managed to drag Ben out of the dungeon. The young swordsman's paralysis was slowly lifting, but he was still too unsteady to walk on his own, so Barney and Arthur took turns carrying him. Ben was not quiet about his discomfort.

"Thith ithe therrible," he complained.

"I theel like a bag of thand."

"You look like a bag of sand," Carol said.

"Thuck you." Ben tried to point a finger, but failed. Mary frowned.

"Language. There's no need for that, Ben."

"Thuck you with rethpeth," Ben drooled.

"That doesn't even make sense." Barney chuckled. Jack followed at the rear, keeping watch for any stragglers, but the dungeon seemed quiet now. The spiders and rats had been culled, and no more spawns were coming. When they reached the surface, the early afternoon sun was warm on their faces. Jack realised he'd missed lunch.

"That could have gone better," Arthur observed.

"Could have gone worse," Barney countered.

"No one died."

"Ben nearly died," Carol complained.

"I thidn't nearly anything. I jutht had a minor venthom thing," Ben corrected.

"Your face is still drooping," Carol said. Ben touched his cheek, which was indeed still slightly slack. He made a noise that might have been a curse but came out as, "Mmmphl." Mary turned to Jack.

"Thanks for your help. We couldn't have made it without you." Jack shrugged.

"It was fun. Mostly." He grinned at Ben, who was still trying to regain full control of his face.

"I'm glad I got to see this, though."

"Shuth up," Ben slurred. They walked to a nearby merchant and sold the corpses. The blood rats went for 5 coppers each—70 coppers total—and the blood spiders for 7 coppers each—63 coppers. Combined with the goblin's ear, which earned them 3 silver, the total haul was 4 silver and 33 coppers.

"Split it six ways," Mary said.

"Jack, you get an equal share."

"Are you sure?" Jack asked.

"I didn't do much…"

"You pinned the goblin so I could kill it," Mary said.

"That's more than enough." The coin was divided. Jack received 72 coppers. He'd also lost one arrow in the dungeon, so his profit was closer to 57 coppers. Ben, because of his injury, got an extra copper; 73 in total.

"Is that it?" Ben demanded, his voice still a little slurred.

"There are holes in my trouth—trouserth."

"That's because you were bitten by spiders," Carol said.

"What did you expect?" Ben sighed.

"I expected to be thrich."

"Then you'd better kill more goblins." Mary pointed out. Ben grumbled something under his breath. Jack said his goodbyes and headed home, a slight smile on his face. The dungeon had been chaotic—Ben's near-death experience, the surge of power—but somehow, he felt better than he had in days. The weight of the past week was still there, pressing on his shoulders, but for a few hours, he'd been just a young man with a bow, helping some new friends clear a dungeon.

Maybe this new life isn't so bad after all, he thought as he walked through the streets of Lundun. And for a while, he almost believed it.

Jack spent the rest of the day with his family relaxing. That night, he sat in his room, staring at his hands. He'd felt the surge of power four times now; twice in the forest when he killed the goblin and the rat-faced rogue, once when he killed the large swordsman, and again in the dungeon when Mary struck the killing blow to the goblin. There was no mistaking it. It was the same feeling he'd had during the blood magic ritual in the barn, though far weaker. What's happening to me? he wondered.

The palm of his right hand itched where the blood-red rose had cut him. Is it the dagger? The scar? Something else? He looked at the damaged assassin's blade, resting on his desk. It was just an old, scarred, tarnished dagger. What did the merchant say again? He'd been so engrossed in getting the dagger that he didn't listen to her ridiculous tall tale. It was something about an important assassin that was as powerful as the Gods. He shook his head. No. That can't be right.

Jack shook his head, pushing the thought away. He couldn't afford to dwell on it. He had bigger problems: the Baron, the hunt, the blood mages, the three remaining adventurers who wanted him dead. One thing at a time, he told himself. Saturday. The hunt. Deal with that first. Everything else can wait. Dungeon chapters end.

Below is the last half of Book 1's epilogue. It includes some more details.

Jack's eyes moved to the notebook.

"I died in so many stupid ways," he muttered, then blanched.

"By the Gods, Greaves fed me to the orc warrior!? What the hell!" Thanatos threw back his head with a booming laugh.

"Yes, that one was spectacular. I have never seen Nemesis laugh so hard at a mortal's demise. You've really annoyed her, you know." Jack frowned.

"I was eaten alive! Nemesis… she laughed?" He pressed a hand to his face, remembering the sign on the privy door and the vision.

"I died in a fucking toilet?"

"You certainly did," Thanatos replied with a smile.

"A memorable highlight." He chuckled as he held his fingers a hair's breadth apart.

"Nemesis was this close to choosing a new champion, but that's all in the past now." Jack's mind went blank as he tried to process what it all meant.

"The Fates took bets, you know. On how you'd die next." Thanatos leaned forward conspiratorially.

"Clotho had essence on 'bitten by a thousand spiders.' She was very disappointed when you made it past day five without incident. Lachesis thought you'd trip over your own feet and fall into an open grave. Atropos, bless her, believed in you. She bet on 'death by Greaves in an epic face-off of good versus evil.'" Jack's mouth worked soundlessly.

"The Fates… gamble on my deaths?"

"Among other things." Thanatos waved dismissively.

"You're not the first mortal we've found amusing, and you certainly won't be the last. Though I must say, the time you tried to escape Viscount Tides' compound by dressing as a serving girl was a personal highlight. That even softened Nemesis' heart. You were so cute in those knee-high socks." He burst into laughter. Jack recalled the strange weapons merchant from whom he acquired his dagger.

"Wait! How did I not see it? She was Nemesis!" His mouth dropped open.

"I-I spoke to Nemesis. How?"

"You mortals can't cope with our divinity. If we are too obvious, your minds reject our presence." Thanatos chuckled.

"Nemesis was never very good at subtle hints."

"I forgot?" Jack thought aloud.

"Not exactly," Thanatos continued, "Your mind remembers the interaction, but rejects the notion of divinity to protect your weak minds. We don't want mortals' brains randomly exploding, now do we?"

"Exploding?" Jack thought.

"Mere details. You don't have a brain here, so you should be fine." Thanatos snapped his fingers, and the spectacles and notepad vanished.

"Since you have chosen a class, albeit the wrong one, your new memories are secure. You shall recall everything except this meeting and that you met Nemesis and Demetre."

"By the Gods, I met Demetre," Jack thought aloud after recalling the old lady in the temple of Demetre.

"She was really nice, not like Nemesis," he muttered, then cursed as he realised he had spoken aloud again.

"Sorry." The God of Death chuckled.

"I need you to listen. Even if you forget, the words may cling to your thoughts despite your high willpower." He sighed.

"Your resistance to compulsion is both useful and infuriating. You don't even listen to your past selves."

"What?" Jack was confused. Thanatos leaned forward.

"Each time you died, you attempted to implant a few simple thoughts into your own mind to guide your actions." He sighed.

"You are about to try again. Perhaps the thirteenth time will be the lucky one." Jack shook his head.

"Lucky! I'm never lucky." Thanatos took on a serious expression.

"We need you to kill every blood mage in Lundun. Every last one. That is the only way to prevent what comes."

"I-I can't kill all of them." Jack went pale and shook his head.

"There has to be at least fifty of them!"

"Try closer to three hundred." Thanatos frowned.

"Most are nobles, but not all. Some awakened much as you did. And it was fortunate you did awaken, because you need that class. Honestly, how did you miss the hints we scattered before you?" Jack looked confused.

"What hints?" He shifted in his seat; the weight of the task felt like a lead weight pressing on his shoulders.

"I can't kill three hundred blood mages," he thought. The God continued, "Nemesis sold you the assassin's dagger. The assassin who hunted blood mages. Hunt. Blood. Mages. Obvious, was it not? How could you not see the hint that you should choose the blood mage class to hunt blood mages?" Another snap, and Jack's dagger reappeared at his side.

"Demeter herself gave you a blood-red rose. Blood rose, Jack. Blood! Do you know how much power that flower contains? And you keep it in a vase in your mother's kitchen." He shook his head in disgust.

"Mortals. You didn't even recognise the smell of roses that Demeter wafted in your face while you chose the wrong class." Jack rubbed the back of his neck.

"None of that was obvious," he said.

"And I wasn't listening to Nemesis. I thought it was a stupid merchant's lies to make a sale." His thoughts were spoken aloud again.

"Regardless," Thanatos continued, "you managed to unlock the class naturally, though not in any way we anticipated. None of us wagered essence on that outcome, which spared me a loss of power at least. I bet it would take another seven deaths to choose the class. You aren't the sharpest blade in your mother's kitchen." He chuckled. Jack met his gaze with anger in his eyes.

"Then why bother sending me back if you're so certain I'll fail?" Thanatos paused, studying him. For a moment, the humour drained from his face. Then he chuckled.

"Perhaps because even the Fates enjoy an underdog." Jack listened and tried not to think aloud.

"Don't think of anything aloud," he thought.

"Fuck!" The God laughed and straightened his jacket.

"When you wake." His voice became serious.

"You must choose Novice Poet as your next class. Those skills will be essential."

"Poet!" Jack blurted.

"Why…" He noticed the smirk on the God's face.

"What an arsehole," he thought aloud.

"Fuck!" He slapped his hands over his mouth. Thanatos roared with laughter.

"Your face." He wiped a tear from his eye.

"Novice Inquisitor is the best class to choose next; the class includes skills for dealing with blood mages."

"Which skills?" Jack asked. Errant thoughts slipped out.

"Why are my affinities so high? I'm a scribe."

"Your affinities are so high because you kept dying. Each time you came here, they increased." The God sighed.

"It's not normal for a mortal to encounter divinity and the void so many times." He shook his head.

"You aren't going to remember this conversation, so concentrate on what's important. The inquisitor skills will work well with your assassin skills and make you a much better assassin over the coming decades."

"Assassin? Decades!" Jack yelled.

"That means killing up close. I'm a coward," he thought aloud and grimaced at having no private thoughts.

"No! I'm a scribe, not a killer. I have to save my family!" Thanatos leaned forward.

"How many have you slain with that dagger? Around two dozen, that's how many. You are our assassin already, Jack. You simply refuse to see it. With the assassin class and training, you'll be culling blood mages like ripe wheat in autumn."

"No!" Jack insisted, his thoughts spilling out in protest.

"I'm a scribe." He groaned at not being capable of controlling his thoughts.

"I chose the class to deal with Greaves, not kill hundreds of blood mages! I'm a scribe!" The God of Death sighed.

"At least Demeter would have found my joke funny." He stood and stretched his body like he'd been sitting for hours.

"You will also protect the orphan girl. She is important to what comes. Guard her well."

"Zia?" Jack's eyes widened.

"Why is she important? Zia's just a kid… I have to keep safe; she's important." The intrusive thought slipped out like it was his own. Thanatos smirked.

"I cannot say. But remember… Inquisitor class. Kill blood mages. Protect the girl." He retrieved a dusty book from one of the library shelves.

"Chant it until it burns into that thick head of yours." He shrugged.

"It hasn't worked too well so far. Twelve times you've done this and the first time you get to choose a class, you take the wrong one." Jack's thoughts spilled out.

"I'm a scribe, not an assassin. Why is my compatibility for blood mage so high?" He tried to control them as Thanatos continued to read.

"He's such a dick. I should stab him in the gut and see how he likes it." He sighed.

"Sorry." After calming his rambling thoughts, Jack repeated under his breath, "Choose inquisitor, kill blood mages, protect Zia," until his head throbbed with the words and his doubts grew louder with each repetition. Over and over again, he chanted, with his thoughts of not wanting to be an assassin of the Gods getting in the way.

"That will suffice." Thanatos returned the book to the shelf.

"One final piece of advice. Cease angering Nemesis. You have never once visited her temple… She even had one of her believers lead you there, and you still walked away." He shook his head.

"We had to calm her down; she wanted to hit you with a lightning bolt!" Jack's mouth dropped open in shock.

"I heard thunder."

"I'm not exaggerating," Thanatos continued, enjoying Jack's expression far too much.

"She had it ready. We had to physically restrain her. She was chanting the incantation. The power was gathering. Your mother's herb garden was this close to becoming a smoking crater along with most of Lundun." The God of Death held his thumb and forefinger a hair's breadth apart.

"Hera had to promise her a royal wedding between two feuding kingdoms to calm her down. Nemesis does love a royal wedding; so much backstabbing." Jack's eyes were wide.

"You… The Gods… You argued over me?"

"Nemesis did." Thanatos shrugged.

"The rest of us were just trying to stop her from spontaneously generating a cataclysmic thunderstorm over your city. Do you have any idea how much paperwork that would have generated? Divine intervention is complicated. We have forms. Multiple forms. In triplicate. With cross-referencing. You mortals, are always so quick to pray and so slow to appreciate the administrative burden." The God chuckled while Jack's mouth opened wider in shock.

"She expects a visit this time. She has a bit of a mean streak for those who disappoint her, and she doesn't forgive easily." Thanatos smirked.

"Do try your best. It would be a shame for you to die early." Jack nodded, the words echoing in his mind like the toll of a bell at a funeral.

"Visit Nemesis, or she'll kill me! Wonderful." He repeated what he was trying to compel himself to remember again.

"Choose inquisitor, kill blood mages, protect Zia, visit Nemesis." His final thought was a startling realisation.

"Wait! It's your fault I kept getting killed. You told me to kill blood…" Thanatos, the God of Death, looked sheepish and clicked his fingers… End of Book 1 Most of book 2 remains the same. When he kills he gain the assassin's memories/skills, but already dealt with that above. I believe that's about it. Thanks for reading an enjoy the rest of the story.